Bedtime Love Story
by bingblot
Summary: A short post-ep to 7x6, "The Time Of Our Lives"-because I needed to write something. "Tell me more about this alternate universe you dreamed about, Castle." Now, a two-shot including the morning after. **SPOILERS AHEAD** Do not read unless you've watched the latest episode!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Not mine. I don't think I'm capable of writing an episode as epic and awesome as tonight's was. _

_Author's Note: One of what I'm sure will be a couple million post-eps to 7x6, "The Time Of Our Lives." Written in just over an hour, now that I'm finally done sobbing hysterically over the episode. _

**Bedtime Love Story**

"Tell me more about this alternate universe you dreamed about, Castle," she said softly, lazily, her breath and her voice trailing across his naked chest.

"You want a bedtime story, Mrs. Castle?" _Mrs. Castle._ He turned his head just enough to glance at the clock on the nightstand. Kate had been Mrs. Castle for… oh… 6 hours and 23 minutes now. Give or take. He had been calling her Mrs. Castle all evening, partly because he loved the sound of it, loved knowing that Kate was finally, finally Mrs. Castle, but mostly because he really, really loved the way her eyes lit up when he called her that, the glints of green and gold catching sparks from all the lights, the soft flush in her cheeks.

"Mrs. Castle," she murmured. "I like the sound of that."

He smiled. It really was like she could read his mind sometimes.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed. "But if you want a bedtime story, I can think of much happier ones than the alternate universe one."

"Maybe later. I want the alternate universe one first."

"It was really weird," he finally began, starting with the stuff that was easier to talk about. "But it was… not a good universe."

"What was bad about it?"

"Everything. I don't know how you and I meeting could have changed things for everyone—maybe it had nothing to do with it—but everyone was just… not right. Espo was pining after Lanie who was pregnant with some other guy's kid."

"Hmm, maybe we shouldn't tell Espo about that," she mumbled.

"Yeah, maybe not. Although… if it gets Espo to wake up and actually commit to something with Lanie, it might not be a bad thing. Ryan… wasn't married to Jenny. He talked about Jenny, said she might have been 'the one' but work got too busy and he lost contact with her so they never married."

"Oh, no, really? But that would mean—"

"No Sarah Grace," he finished for her. "I know. And it was just… wrong… you know, for Ryan to be talking in terms of 'if only' and 'maybe.' Ryan's the believer, you know, he deserves to have the perfect family and the happiness he's found with Jenny, if anyone does."

"Yeah, he really does. We won't tell Ryan about this alternate universe."

"No. He doesn't need to hear about it," he agreed easily. "Alexis… well, Alexis had moved out to California a couple years before. We weren't… close anymore. But in my dream, we sort of reconnected."

"I'm glad of that, Castle. I can't imagine you not being close to Alexis. What happened between you two—in your dream, that is?"

"I… uh… she said it was because I gave up. After the writer's block I fell into after killing off Derrick Storm—and with no inspiration for Nikki Heat—I just gave up and she, the other Alexis, couldn't help and it got too hard for her so she moved out to California."

"But you managed to reconnect? In your dream?"

He smiled. It was probably one of the few good things that had happened in that universe, the one thing that had almost managed to make him feel that maybe, everything wasn't completely hopeless in that other universe. Maybe he could fix things, get back to his life and his Kate. Fitting that Alexis, the center of his world in this life, managed to ground him, bring some hope to him in that other life. "Yeah, we reconnected. It was… good. It gave me hope again that not everything was lost, that I'd find my way back to you."

"Castle?"

"Hmm?"

"What about… us? What was going on with us?"

He hesitated. What part of all that had happened, all that he'd seen—dreamed?—did he want to tell her? But no, what was he thinking? This was Kate—his wife—his Mrs. Castle. His best friend and his partner in life, he thought, feeling the sudden prick of (manly) tears at the reminder of their vows. He could tell her anything.

"We were… strangers, mostly. You—the other you—told me that we met once, before the book party we first officially met at. She said she'd met me once at a book signing, that you waited in line to get a book signed." He turned his head to look at her. "Kate, did we meet before the _Storm Fall _book party? Did you really get a book signed by me?"

She gave him a small smile, turning her head to drop a light kiss on his shoulder. "Yes, I went to a signing."

"You've never told me that before," he said, feeling an odd little quiver or something pass through him—like déjà vu, he thought, because he'd dreamed—or something—saying this. And wondered, again, how on earth he could possibly have met Kate, signed a book for her, and not… remembered her? Not noticed her? Not somehow… sensed… that the woman he was signing a book for was the love of his life?

She laughed softly. "Consider it another piece of the mystery that is me."

He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her softly. "My favorite mystery," he murmured against her lips.

She smiled slightly against his lips as he drew back. "Mm, Castle, have I ever told you that I love kissing you?"

He laughed softly. "No, but I'm glad to hear it because the feeling's entirely mutual, Mrs. Castle."

"I think I might deserve a sainthood for resisting the urge to kiss you again for more than a year after our first kiss," she mumbled against his shoulder and he felt her lips curve, heard the thread of humor in her voice.

"Mm, no, I don't think the Catholic Church grants sainthoods for that and anyway, I don't think we want to be encouraging that kind of abnormal will-power," he quipped.

"No, you're right. I wouldn't wish that kind of torture on anyone else."

"It's so reassuring to find out I didn't marry a sadist," he commented to the air.

She choked on a laugh and poked him in the side, making him yelp.

"Hey! Keep that up and I won't finish my story," he threatened. "Besides, starting out our married life with abuse like that isn't nice."

"Our married life," she echoed. "Can you believe it, Castle? We're married!"

"I know. I was there," he said, trying to sound dry but knowing his voice betrayed his emotion. Married. To Kate. God, all his birthdays and Christmases had just happened in one day, in one evening.

"Finish telling the story of our other selves, husband," she instructed.

He felt a silly grin split his face at that word. Husband. Yeah, he kind of loved that word too, at least when Kate said it. _Husband._ He was her husband.

"The rest of our story? It's not really a happy one," he finally said and he knew a bit of grimness seeped into his tone at some of the memories. "I, the other me that is, was… lost, spiraling down, and my life was… meaningless," he said, remembering with a slight inward shudder the blonde bimbo that had let herself in to his mother's loft—he couldn't think of it as being his. He couldn't imagine it—still having meaningless flings with women whom he didn't know, didn't like, and couldn't care less about. The very thought was… sickening and depressing too. He couldn't imagine it, didn't want to imagine it—ever simply "having sex" again, not after having made love with Kate. He had thought it before but it was the stark, literal truth—Kate had ruined him for any other woman, for the rest of his life. He grimaced and bent to kiss Kate—his Kate, his Mrs. Castle—again. "You're the only woman in the world for me, Kate Castle," he breathed softly. _Kate Castle. _Ooh, yeah, he liked the sound of that, maybe even more than he liked the sound of Mrs. Castle.

"Mm, good. Because I do believe you're stuck with me for life now, Richard Beckett."

He laughed softly. "I don't remember agreeing to change my name. Again."

"Just between us," she teased. "Now, tell me more about this _Captain_ Kate Beckett. Did you like her?"

"She was you, Kate. Of course I liked her. If there's one thing this dream—alternative universe hallucination thing has taught me, it's that in every universe, in every reality, I would love you, no matter what else has happened in our lives."

"Oh, Rick…" she whispered.

"I died," he blurted out suddenly. Stupidly, really. He felt her stiffen, heard her suck in a sharp breath, and he continued on quickly, "In my dream, I mean. That was—that was how it ended, the last thing that happened before I woke up again. I was trying to bring you—the other you—coffee, because I thought that what I needed to do to get back home was to prove to you that in every universe, we were better off together, but I got taken hostage and taken to the factory and… and one of Lark's minions tried to shoot you so I shielded you."

"Rick… in your dream, even though in that universe, we weren't engaged, you still died to save me? Why—why would you do that?" Her voice shook a little.

He tightened his arm around her and kissed her forehead. "Because, Kate, like I told the other you in my dream when she asked that very question, I love you. No matter what universe we're in, no matter what version of you or me exists, I would love you, _do_ love you. And you ought to know by now that there's nothing I wouldn't do to save you—any version of you."

She let out a strangled sob, her arm tightening across his chest as she buried her face in his neck. "Castle…"

"Kate, sshh," he murmured soothingly, stroking one hand up and down her back. "I'm right here. It was only a dream, you know that."

She sniffled a little. "It's not that, Castle. It's just… I can't lose you. I already thought I lost you when you were missing and I can't—I can't go through that again and I… can't even _think_ about it. I can't bear the thought of a world without you in it."

"Ssh, Kate," he murmured again, now kicking himself for having told her all the stupid, tragic details of his dream/hallucination. He'd made her cry on their wedding night. Damn it. Nice going, Rick. He turned over onto his side, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her in against him, curling his body around hers. He kissed her eyelids, kissed away the few tears on her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm so sor—"

"No, Rick," she interrupted his incoherent apology, her voice startlingly firm, sounding much more Beckett-like. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I never want you to apologize for loving me."

"I wasn't!" he protested quickly. Good God, he would never! "I wouldn't! I only meant I was sorry for making you cry on our wedding night."

"You don't have to apologize for that either," she answered him. "That was just me and I asked to hear the story."

"Still," he mumbled in rather automatic protest. "I hate knowing I made you cry, Kate."

She sniffed a little and managed a small smile for him. "It's okay, Rick. I just… love you. And don't you know all brides are supposed to cry?"

"I think that's during the ceremony, not during the wedding night."

"Well, we've never really done things the normal way, Castle," she murmured, surprising him into a small laugh.

She smiled at him in response, a full beaming smile, green and gold sparking in her eyes once again.

"I love you, Kate Castle," he blurted out—because he really, really just needed to tell her again. He suspected he would be telling her he loved her at random times (possibly every hour or so) for at least the next couple days and calling her Kate Castle or Mrs. Castle even more frequently than that.

"I love you too, Richard Castle."

She tightened her arms around him, pressing herself against him, letting her naked body slide along his in all sorts of… _interesting_… ways, and he gasped, feeling his body immediately respond. "And now," she breathed against his lips, "I believe you said something about it being our wedding night still so…. Make love to your wife, Mr. Castle."

"Your wish is my command, Mrs. Castle," was all he managed to say and swallowed her small laugh with his mouth as he kissed her.

And that was the end of story telling for the night, at least story telling through words, but not of the story told by their bodies, the wordless communication manifest in every kiss, every caress, every touch, every gasp.

_I love you I love you I love you… _

_Always… _

_~The End~_

_A/N 2: I don't think I have words to describe tonight's ep. And I don't think I've really done justice to it in this fic either. But oh well, one can but try. _


	2. Chapter 2: The First Morning

_Author's Note: Okay so when I said this post-ep was a one-shot and that it was over, I seem to have inadvertently lied… I woke up this morning with part of the morning after running through my head and this is the result. (Last night's ep rendered me incapable of thinking of anything but Caskett today.) _

_Thanks, everyone, who read, reviewed, and favorited the first half of this. I hope you all enjoy this morning after scene just as much. More fluff, because I couldn't resist. _

**The First Morning**

Kate Bec—no, she was Kate Castle now, she corrected herself rather giddily—woke up on the morning after her wedding with a smile on her face.

_Kate Castle. Kate Castle. _She was married.

Her nose was pressed against Castle's bare shoulder and she shifted backwards just the barest inch but otherwise stayed where she was. For that matter, she thought she might never want to move again, just wanted to stay there, lying close enough to him that even where they weren't actually touching, she could still feel the warmth from his body against her skin.

Well, she could stand to be a _little_ bit closer, like completely pressed against him, his arms wrapped around her, but that would mean waking him up. She could wait.

Castle was sleeping soundly. Good, she thought, he needed it after not being able to sleep for the past couple nights.

Plus he deserved it given all their activities the night before, part of her mind added, and she bit back the sudden urge to giggle, not wanting to wake him up.

Besides which, she liked watching him sleep. He looked… younger in sleep, his features so relaxed, his hair flopping in all different directions. And on this particular morning, there was the faintest of smiles curving his lips as if he'd gone to sleep smiling and was dreaming pleasant things.

Studying him now, she could see where gravity tugged at the skin of his face, giving some indication of where wrinkles would form in the years to come. She had a sudden vision, a mental image, of him when he became old—hair completely silvery-white, laugh lines around his eyes and his mouth, his eyes looking even more deeply blue compared to the silver of his hair. That was what she wanted, she thought. She wanted to wake up beside him in 40, even 50 years, when they were both old and gray. Wanted to walk beside him holding his hand when they were both arthritic and achy and their skin was paper-thin and wrinkled. Wanted to be like Joe and Vera, still so much in love after so many decades together. She blinked and returned to the present, to the reality that the rest of their lives still remained to be lived.

She smiled. Richard Castle was her _husband_ now. She was _married_ to him.

A little shiver of delight, mixed in with a healthy dose of something like awe, went through her.

Married to Richard Castle. She was married to her favorite author. She swallowed back another rather giddy laugh. Her life was so surreal sometimes.

Surreal—the word reminded her of the crazy alternate universe dream he'd had when he'd been knocked out in the factory. (And she stifled another laugh because the boys would probably never get tired of ribbing Castle for being so addicted to his crazy theorizing that he would hallucinate about an alternate universe when he was unconscious.)

An alternate universe was a fascinating idea, a fascinating concept. The idea that there might be other versions of yourself out there living different versions of your life. She sobered. The only time she'd really thought much about an alternate universe, the only alternate universe she'd ever wanted to live, had been one where her mother had never been murdered. She had spent hours, even days, in those first years after it had happened and afterwards too, wondering about it sometimes, what her life would have been like if her mother was still around. Wishing desperately that such things were possible so she could live that life, so she could still have her mother with her.

But—although Castle hadn't, wouldn't, have said so—even in the strange alternate universe he had dreamed of, her mother had still been murdered. She had still become a cop. Captain Kate Beckett with her own precinct to run. Just like she'd jokingly told Castle yesterday morning when he'd asked where she would be if they'd never met. It had been a joke but she found herself rather regretting that she'd made it now. Joke or not, something about the idea—the implication that meeting him had somehow derailed her career advancement—had bothered him enough that he'd dreamed about it when he'd been knocked out.

Captain Kate Beckett. Of course being made a Captain one day was one of those random pipe-dreams that had flitted across her mind; she was still ambitious and much as she loved her job, she didn't really think she'd stay a Homicide detective for the rest of her life. But to already be Captain, if it meant she'd never met Castle… That Captain Beckett Castle had dreamed about—she suddenly found herself wondering but even as she thought it, she knew the answer—no, that version of herself would not have managed to find her mother's murderer. Castle wouldn't tell her and she wouldn't ask but she suddenly knew she didn't need to ask, already knew the answer. She couldn't have defeated Bracken, would never have been able to get justice for her mother, without Castle. She knew that, had told Castle the same thing, and it was true. Justice for her mother versus her own career advancement—that wasn't a choice.

And of course, the idea of an alternate universe was ridiculous.

Castle twitched a little in his sleep and she knew that it meant he was getting closer to waking up, consciousness just barely beginning to tug at him. He was a deep enough sleeper that he didn't wake up quickly and he wasn't much of a morning person either so it usually took him a couple minutes to stop being groggy, for his brain to fully wake up even after his body was ostensibly awake. (She loved knowing these things about him, loved the intimacy of this knowledge that could only come after months of sleeping beside him.)

And at that moment, she knew she was perfectly happy. Even if she could have, even if alternate universes really existed, she knew that she was exactly where she wanted to be, that this was the _only_ life she wanted to have. Knew it with an odd sense of calm and even of a little sadness because this life of course included the murder of her mother but for maybe the first time, she could accept that and thought that she… understood, somehow. Fate—or something—had taken her mother away but it had also given her this, given _him_ to her. And even though it was an odd, even uncharacteristic thing for her to think, at that moment, on this morning of all mornings, she believed it, felt it was true. He was her gift from Fate. Knowing him, loving him, being loved _by_ him, was the best thing that had ever happened to her and even if she could have, she suddenly knew she would not change a single thing about her life, no matter how hard it had been.

She suddenly remembered Castle's words when they'd been dancing at the Fairwick Winter Formal. _Every choice I've ever made, every terrible and wonderful thing that's ever happened to me, has all led me to right here, this moment with you. _

And it was true. Completely, wonderfully true.

She could tell from the slight change of rhythm in his breathing, from the faint twitch of his facial muscles, from the slight smile fluttering around the corners of his mouth, that he was close to waking up.

She gave in to temptation and shifted the tiniest bit closer to him, nuzzling and then kissing his bicep—she loved his arms so much, the strength apparent in him, his broad shoulders—and then trailing her lips up along his bare shoulder.

He grunted a little. "Mmf. Kate," he mumbled in a voice that sounded like it had been dragged out of him and then possibly put through a cement mixer as well.

He always sounded like this when he was first waking up and the sound of his voice so gruff had the odd effect of making her feel aroused and protective at the same time. Aroused because his rough, mostly-sleeping voice wasn't that far removed from his husky bedroom voice. Protective because he was adorable like this, adorable and vulnerable and hers.

The faintest of frowns flickered across his face. "Staring," he mumbled.

She raised her eyebrows, swallowing back the urge to laugh. From the man who had basically made an art form out of watching her and staring at her, he didn't seem to understand how much she loved to watch him when he was sleeping. And then to wake him up in the mornings.

Teasingly, she opened her lips and let her teeth lightly graze the curve of his shoulder.

He twitched and she saw the way his faint smile deepened ever so slightly, his eyelids twitching. He was awake now, just not opening his eyes.

She smiled against his shoulder and allowed her fingers to "walk" up his bare chest, his neck, his chin, pausing to trace his lips.

He opened his lips just enough to pretend to nip at her finger, his hand flying up to capture her wrist.

She felt a laugh bubbling out of her and this time she couldn't hold it back. "Morning, Mr. Castle."

"Am I going to wake up to this sort of intrusive behavior every morning for the rest of our lives?" he pretended to grumble.

"Unless we get woken up by a call about a dead body in the middle of the night, yes," she told him. Or unless they were both woken up by a babbling toddler, she found herself thinking, but left that unsaid. She felt a happy little thrill go through her. _For the rest of our lives. _

"Bother."

"Part of the package, lifetime deal you signed up for last night," she quipped. "It's too late for regrets now."

His eyes flew open and her laugh was abruptly cut off as he swiftly rolled over, pinning her to the mattress. She felt a sizzle of heat streak through her, her body softening, melting, beneath him, as always.

"No regrets, Kate," he promised with sudden earnestness. "I'll never ever regret you."

"I know," she said softly. "I'll never regret you either."

He smirked. "Not even when I'm annoying you with my crazy conspiracy theories or going on about aliens or ghosts or demons?"

"Not even then."

"I should get that in writing," he quipped, his eyebrows lifting. "Ooh, or no, I'll record it on my phone. Admissible evidence for when I'm driving you crazy," he said and actually made as if to roll off her so he could grab his phone on the nightstand.

Silly, adorable, ridiculous man.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, keeping him in place. "Oh, no, you don't."

He pretended to pout. Clearly he had gotten over his sentimental mood of last night, was fully restored to his usual, playful self. And yeah, she kind of loved that too. "But if I don't get actual evidence of this, what will I use to defend myself when you're threatening to kill me for one of my helpful insights into time travel and alien abductions and zombie uprisings?"

She had to laugh. Helpful insights, yeah right. But then she sobered, remembering what she'd said yesterday about where she would be if he weren't around distracting her. "You know I wouldn't change anything about you, right, Castle?" she blurted out. "Even when you're annoying me, I still wouldn't change you."

His grin vanished and he was abruptly serious, lowering his head to kiss her. "I know, Mrs. Castle," he murmured against her lips.

She smiled again at the name that still sounded so new and strange and wonderful on his lips, never mind that he had probably called her Mrs. Castle at least 30 times since the moment they'd been officially married.

_Mrs. Castle. His Mrs. Castle. _

She would still be Detective Kate Beckett at work, she knew, since she couldn't imagine introducing themselves to people as Detective Castle and Mr. Castle, but outside of work, in everything else in life, she wanted to be Mrs. Castle. Funny, she'd never have expected it of herself, but part of her really did love that, loved that her name was now his or that his name was hers, whichever. Loved the fact that her name would reflect that she was his and he was hers.

"You know what I was thinking this morning before you woke up?"

"That you love me and you want to spend the rest of your life with me," he supplied easily, stringing soft, lazy kisses along her cheek and down to her ear.

"Mm, yes, that too," she gasped a little as his lips found the sensitive spot just below her ear lobe. He kissed and then lightly licked her ear lobe before moving on to her neck and she felt her thoughts beginning to scatter.

"I was thinking that this is the only reality I ever want to live in," she managed to say and then almost moaned as he stopped, lifting his head to look at her. (Note to self: avoid heartfelt declarations when he was kissing her. Kissing him was so much better than talking.)

"Really, Kate? You—you wouldn't change anything that's happened to you?" he asked, a little caution entering his voice. And she knew that he was thinking about her mother's murder, about her shooting, about all the terrible things she'd been through. She could see it in the sadness that darkened his eyes, in the set of his mouth. It amazed her sometimes, how tender-hearted he was, and just how much loved her. Amazed her and touched her to know that this man, this man with his boundless, compassionate heart, loved _her_ so much that her pain, her sadness, was his too. In spite of everything, in spite of all her emotional baggage, he loved her.

And somehow, knowing that he loved her made everything easier, better. She'd never known, never realized, the truth in the saying that a shared joy is a double joy and a shared sorrow is half a sorrow. When her mom had died, she and her dad had grown apart rather than closer together in their sorrow and since that time, when she'd been sad or troubled or vulnerable in any way, she had always retreated into herself, stayed resolutely alone as if being alone was the only way she could be strong. Now, with Castle, _because_ of Castle, she knew that life was better shared, that sharing her sorrows with someone else, sharing her vulnerabilities with someone else, didn't make her weaker but rather made her stronger.

She shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes on his, watching the expression on his face, the light in his eyes. She was thinking in poetry (she could hardly believe it of herself but she was dating—no, _married to_ a writer after all) but she suddenly thought that the look in his eyes was like a sunrise and she understood why people used the expression of a look dawning on someone's face. Because that was what it looked like, the slow, gradual creeping increase of light, of love, of joy, until, even as you realized it, the sun had come up and it was morning. "I wouldn't change anything," she said softly. "Every terrible thing that's ever happened to me has still led me here, to this life, with you, and there's nowhere I would rather be." She saw the flicker of memory, of recognition, across his face as she echoed and paraphrased his words to her, saw the way his lips softened, his eyes lighting up. "The only life I want to live is as your Mrs. Castle."

He blinked rapidly against the tears welling up in his eyes and managed a rather shaky smile. "Is this payback since I made you cry on our wedding night to make me cry on the morning after?"

She laughed softly, amazed all over again at how he knew what to say, how he knew when to use humor to lighten the mood, when, in spite of her deep, underlying happiness, she'd been feeling a little too melancholy to suit the morning. For all the times that he annoyed her, for all the times that his inappropriate use of humor would make her roll her eyes, there were also times like this, when he knew exactly what to say, knew exactly what she needed. "I love you," she blurted out and really, it was such a little thing, 8 letters, 3 small words, to try to express all she felt. And it suddenly didn't feel like enough. "I love you. I love you. I love y—"

He cut off her repetitive declaration with his lips, kissing her long and slow and deep, and moving his hips just slightly against hers in a way that effectively blanked her brain of any sadness and any thoughts at all except those that centered around him and his body against hers.

"I love you too," he finally broke off the kiss to murmur against her lips.

She didn't answer him in words, only tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him again. Because really, there was no better way to start their married life than by kissing Castle. She planned to spend the rest of her life kissing Castle, loving Castle, being loved by Castle…

_~The End~_

_(Really. I mean it, this time.) _

_A/N 2: Thanks for reading and reviewing! _

_Now, to go back to squeeing and swooning and crying over last night's ep…_


End file.
